


just a little phase i'm going through

by CallicoKitten



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (2014), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Kink Meme, M/M, Soul Bond, and i dont think that makes me a BAD person, but i just want to think about lee pace and chris pratt making out, groot ex machina, i know i know ronan is really beyond redemption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-02-16 16:47:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2277258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallicoKitten/pseuds/CallicoKitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the last thing he heard before he grabbed the infinity stone, before his world exploded and imploded and probably a few other kinds of 'plodeds that aren't yet known to man. </p><p>(Ronan frowning at him, completely and utterly stumped, "<em>What are you doing</em>?" and Peter's chest starts to burn, right over his heart.  <em>Fuck you, universe</em>, he thinks. <em>Fuck you so much</em>.)</p><p> </p><p>Wherein Ronan and Peter are soul mates and everything is awful but it turns out mostly okay in the end</p>
            </blockquote>





	just a little phase i'm going through

**Author's Note:**

> for [this](http://guardian-kink.livejournal.com/1806.html?thread=150286#t150286) prompt over at the gotg kink meme. Beta'd by the-smiley-bandit who is made of awesome!
> 
> this wasn't meant to be so long, never ever. in fact im pretty sure this is the longest continuous fic i've written so yay.
> 
> hope the formatting isn't too screwed up.

Ronan's words appear early for a Kree and in an almost embarrassingly visible place but still, even though it is unbecoming, Ronan cannot prevent the thrill he feels when he first sees them. They are curled around his forearm, a deep, crimson red that stands in stark contrast to the blue of his skin. 

 

Ronan would like to say that the prospect of a soul mate does not excite him; after all there is little chance that he will ever find them, let alone build a relationship with them. It is a large galaxy and he has a duty to his people to continue their noble race. But still, in his quiet moments he allows himself to dwell on what it would be like to meet them. He has heard that it is the most wonderful feeling in the known universe.

 

When his father sees the words now branded on his skin he snorts dismissively, "Those are not Kree words, boy. It seems _true_ love will not be in your future. How sad." He chuckles and Ronan laughs along with him, pushes down the resentment that grates at him. 

 

His parents were not soul mates. His father's words belonged to an unworthy pink Kree girl whom he slew to strike fear into the hearts of the Xandarians they were at war with. To destroy one’s own soul mate takes a supreme amount of courage and strength; most would go mad from pain. His mother's soul mate died soon after her words appeared, she was never sorrowful though, she knew she had done her duty for the empire by marrying his father, that was all that mattered. 

 

Ronan accepts that the words are quite strange, even their form is somewhat unusual. They are wavy, rising and falling rhythmically. He finds himself tracing them in quiet moments, committing their form to memory. His father finds his barely concealed fixation on them irksome and though Ronan knows he should be _mortified_ and fearful of his father's anger but still, he cannot prevent himself from wondering. 

 

The day before his father's death, the day before their cause is lost and his mission becomes singular, curiosity gets the better of him and he researches the strange words that have made his person their home.

 

He finds an old Terran ballad and is immediately repulsed. There is no way that he, of the mighty blue Kree, superior to all, is destined to be mated with a _Terran_. A race so puny and pathetic they have yet to master space flight, this _cannot_ be his destiny.

 

(Though he has to admit the ballad is not awful.)

 

Not that it matters. His father and grandfather are dead, a peace treaty is signed and the Xandarians are going unpunished, something must be done, his family must be avenged.

 

(Sometimes, though, he finds himself humming that song. The song that has wormed its way into every corner of his being. At night mostly, when he is alone staring out into the black abyss of space or just before he falls asleep. He finds himself mouthing the words as a comfort, it has become second nature. If he were not so consumed with rage and vengeance he would be embarrassed but as it stands it is the least of his concerns.)

 

-

 

Peter's never really bought into this whole "soul mate" thing. Mostly it just seems inconvenient. 

 

See, the thing is, it’s a big galaxy and Peter, even with his super great ship and winning personality, is only ever going to experience a tiny, tiny, fraction of it. Plus there's the whole Terran thing which means his soul mate should be someone back there, right? (Look, Peter can just about buy the idea that there's some weird - strangely horrifying - force out there that pairs you up with an intended but there's no way that force knows _everything_ that's going to happen, right? And if it does then it needs to be stopped because _seriously_.)

 

Then there's the fact that the words stamped across his heart are said to him, like, _every day_. People have been yelling/sighing/growing “ _what you are doing_ ” at him since he was old enough to get into stuff he shouldn't. Not that he knew the significance of them back then. (And okay, maybe every time someone said that to him after his words appeared a little thrill went through him - or, on a few unfortunately memorable occasions a resounding, _oh God, no_.)

 

And that's the other thing, the fact that life just loves kicking his butt. There was the whole dead mom thing and then the space pirates that kidnapped him (and sure, they taught him a few sweet tricks and gave him a gun - or three - and a sweet space ship and pretty much said _go nuts, kid_ , but it was still traumatic, okay?) Peter's pretty sure that whoever his soul mate is they'll be someone awful. Like a - a nova corps officer or something or someone like Yondu. 

 

True story, Yondu was the first person to growl _what are you doing_ to him after his words appeared and Peter damn near had a heart attack. Okay, so maybe it was more “ _the hell you think you're doing, boy_?” but still. 

 

So yeah, Peter doesn't really spend much time searching out that special someone. It's a big galaxy and there are tonnes of girls and guys out there in the same boat as he is and that's way more fun. 

-

 

When Ronan steps out of the wreckage of his ship onto the surface of Xandar, he, at first, believes that the song he is hearing - _his_ song- is merely in his head. After all, with the infinity stone singing in his veins, amplifying everything, making him _a god_ , it stands to reason that even his own thoughts would boom louder than they had.

 

But it is barely more than whisper underneath the thrill of his vengeance, no, his _justice_ , being so close at hand. Which is why he fails to put two and two together when the Terran starts singing and his arm begins to burn.

 

-

 

They don't kill Ronan. 

 

Okay, okay, _he_ doesn't kill Ronan but if anyone asks he's totally going to say it was a group effort. Not that the group knows why they didn't kill him. Peter is really dreading that conversation. 

It's the last thing he heard before he grabbed the infinity stone, before his world exploded and imploded and probably a few other kinds of 'plodeds that aren't yet known to man. 

(Ronan frowning at him, completely and utterly stumped, " _What are you doing_?" and Peter's chest starts to burn, right over his heart. _Fuck you, universe_ , he thinks. _Fuck you so much_.)

Now he's standing in the Milano's small bathroom, glaring at the stupid words on his chest. They're still a little sore, stamped in stupid, big, block letters, slowly bleeding from black to a rich blue. ‘What are you doing?’

He can feel Ronan in his head. Not properly, more like a ghost or a shadow, but he's there. Peter can feel his anxiety, his fury, but most of all the deep, deep devastation. 

 

"You and me both, buddy," he mutters, finally pulling on a shirt.

 

"First sign of madness, you know," Rocket calls, stalking by the door. Peter snorts.

 

They've been tasked with catching Ronan and taking him back to Xandar. Xandar wants him alive but three out of five of the team want nothing more than to destroy him and three out of three of those members are galaxy class assassins so, you do the math. And honestly, who's Peter to stand in the way of Drax avenging his family?

 

There's no way Ronan's walking away from this and Peter's not sure where that leaves him. He's heard horror stories about what losing your soul mate can do to you, even if you've only met them for the briefest of moments. 

 

He finds Drax in the bunk room, snoring loudly, Gamora's there too, cleaning her knives on her bunk. That's something the Nova Corps added in, the extra bunks. Peter's unspeakably grateful for that. He guesses they could've, you know, given them a few different rooms though, rather than lumping them all together like a bunch of kids at summer camp. 

 

She looks up as he collapses in a completely dignified manner onto his bunk. Presses his face into the well-worn blankets and rolls to face her.

 

"There's something bothering you, Quill," she states, setting the knife down on the bedspread and sitting forward to peer at him. "Tell me." 

 

Peter rubs at his eyes, "'M just tired. Being a hero is hard work, saving the galaxy really takes it out of you."

 

"I know you're lying," she says, running a finger across the knife's handle in a manner that Peter doesn't think is very team member-y. "It would be easier to tell me now, you know." 

 

Maybe it's because he hasn't slept for a good few days, maybe it's because he doesn't feel comfortable saying no to a woman would could probably kill him several times over before he's even grabbed his guns off the floor, especially since they're going to be spending quite a bit together in an enclosed space, (it's probably a combination of them both) but he meekly lifts up his top so Gamora can see those words. 

 

She's quiet for a few moments before she says, very quietly, "Oh. That... That could be a problem."

 

Peter suddenly feels really, really awful for dumping this on her. He's not even sure if Gamora's people _have_ soul mates, he knows some species don't. He covers his face and groans, "I _knoooow_. But hey," he uncovers his face to grin crookedly up at her. "It could be worse."

 

Gamora looks faintly amused, "I fail to see how."

 

"Well, my soul mate could always have been Thanos." 

 

Gamora rolls her eyes.

 

-

 

To Ronan’s surprise Nebula comes to find him. 

 

He had stolen one of the Ravager's ships to make his escape, exchanged it for something a little less conspicuous and now he is unsure of what course of action to take. He could always return home in disgrace but if he decides on that he may as well fall on his own sword. Or he could simply continue with his mission, though most of his fleet has been crushed he could always rally the survivors. He knows there are still those who think his cause just. It would be a pitiful army but at least he would go out in the glory of battle.

 

He knows that he will not do that, though. His encounter with the stone has left him severely weakened and the Terran's influence is too strong. It is strange; his mind feels somewhat empty now. Thoughts devoid of that driving rage, of the stone thrumming through his veins and then there is the quiet presence of the Terran. His _mate_. Tentative and bright and warm.

 

He is trying to ignore that, for now.

 

He is refuelling when Nebula finds him, on a small planet where he might go undetected. He has not done this for himself since before his campaign begun and he ponders this until he notices her stalking across the mostly barren land towards him.

 

"So, you made it," she says, tone biting but carefully neutral. He knows that she is not pleased to see him but he has given her no reason to actively despise him. "I'd heard they let you escape but I thought that was just a little story for the Kree's benefit. Thought they'd want to avoid causing another little _skirmish_."

 

Ronan looks down at her distastefully, "And you seem to have escaped," his gaze lingers on her missing hand, " _relatively_ unscathed. Tell me, is it difficult to pilot a ship one handed?"

 

She grins at him, all teeth and malice, "My father is very angry with you, Ronan. Furious, actually." 

 

He sets his jaw. Thanos' rage is legendary, he has felt it mildly over the years but he knows that this time he will have incurred his full wrath. "Your father does not scare me," he lies.

 

Nebula sniggers, "You forget I know you, Ronan." And she does. That knowledge is almost _painful_. She cocks her head with a smirk, "Good luck out there, in the big scary galaxy." And with that she strides off.

 

Thanos could find him with ease if he wanted too, Ronan knows that. Has always known that. 

 

Ronan imagines that Thanos is simply letting him stew or perhaps he has decided Ronan is beneath him, not worthy of his time. For some reason that thought does not bother him as much as it once would have. He shudders with disgust; it must be that Terran's influence. He can feel it, in the back of his mind, a sporadic warmth, interspersed with little bursts of irritation.

 

It is disgusting to think that he is connected to _that_.

 

The Terran's influence is growing stronger; he must be getting closer, so Ronan must move on. He has no intention of being captured by that band of imbeciles, nor does he intend to allow himself to be captured by Thanos.

 

-

 

Nebula finds him again on the way to Knowhere. He has not come to this decision lightly. Knowhere is a dangerous place for everyone but it also holds his best bet of getting back to Hala without being intercepted by the Nova Corps or Thanos' forces. Thanos has been sending cannon fodder his way, no one who could cause Ronan any true damage, more an annoyance, but he has also taken it upon himself to slaughter many of Ronan's remaining allies. 

 

Thanos is doing this just to taunt him. Ronan has retaliated by sending Thanos' warriors back to him in pieces.

 

It is probably exactly what Thanos wants, to set Ronan on edge, but by this point, Ronan is beyond caring. He has the dishonour of failure hanging heavily about his person and a Terran buzzing in the back of his head and tugging at him. He will go home and regroup. Perhaps on Hala the Terran's influence will be weaker. 

 

He has again stopped to refuel and again, Nebula appears. He would be concerned that she seems to be following him but he has known her long enough to know that she cares too little about him either way to follow him out of loyalty or for some sort of twisted revenge. It is far more likely that she is simply wandering aimlessly and enjoys tormenting him, or perhaps she is simply biding time until she can hunt down Gamora. Ronan knows that she has been more hurt by her sister’s betrayal than she lets on. 

 

She appears in his ship and he cannot bring himself to be surprised. She grins at him and drops into the co-pilot's chair, "Fancy seeing you here," she smirks. "I hear my father is trying to kill you."

 

Ronan laughs bitterly; his weapons are gone and his armour is ruined, he is all but defenceless. "If your father wanted to kill me I would be dead."

 

She snorts, "True."

 

There is a quiet moment where she seems lost in thought. It has never occurred to Ronan that she was just as surprised as he was at their defeat; she had always been more cynical about their goals, after all but now she seems rather lost. She glances up at him suddenly, smirk firmly back in place, "I would have thought you would be busy plotting your revenge, not running back home."

 

"Careful," he growls. 

 

She grins again, then frowns and then, before he can react, she has grabbed his wrist and pushed up his sleeve. "Oh, Ronan," she says with mirthful glee before he snatches his arm back. He should snap her neck for such insolence. "I was wondering why you hadn't torn that Terran apart yet," she leans closer. "I heard that Kree of your kind were particularly affected by their bonds. Having fun?"

 

Nebula's words are curved along her hip bone in delicate cursive; Ronan dearly hopes that Nebula's soul mate is some manner of Skrull or A'askvarii or something equally as hideous. 

 

"I could still kill you, you know," he tells her.

 

"Yes," she agrees. "But you won't."

 

He doesn't. 

 

-

 

"Just remember guys, he's worth twice the credits alive than he is dead," Peter says.

 

"You know," Rocket says, loading up his guns. "Usually, I'd be all over those extra credits but I might have to make an exception this time."

 

"I agree," Drax rumbles. "Snapping Ronan's head off would be infinitely more satisfying than the extra credits."

 

"I am Groot!" Groot squeaks.

 

"Groot's right, big guy, that sounds awful quick for a monster like Ronan," Rocket growls.

 

They've tracked Ronan to Knowhere, which is honestly a surprise since Peter's pretty sure that most of its population would _love_ to join Drax and Rocket in snapping Ronan's head off. Plus, Peter has no idea what Ronan would even be _doing_ on Knowhere, what would be worth the risk?

 

Peter's words are burning on his chest. It's weird, the whole soul mate bond, he's been able to feel them getting closer and closer to Ronan for the past few days and then there's the hum of Ronan's feelings at the back of his mind and the _tug_ in his chest.

 

Gamora catches Peter's eye across the ship, she wants him to tell the others about the bond but it's just so - _so embarrassing_ and yes, Peter is just image conscious enough to risk it. Besides, it's not like Ronan is someone _worth_ saving. He'll be okay, right? It can't be that bad to lose your soul mate, people die _all_ the time and if their partners dropped dead with them the galaxy would be a whole lot emptier. Okay, maybe _sometimes_ they do, but his parents were soul mates, right, his mom told him so and his dad didn't die... Well, Peter's pretty sure he didn't anyway. Sure, it'll probably smart a little when Ronan's head gets torn off by Drax or when Rocket does something really horrific probably or Gamora - well, Peter's not sure how Gamora'll play this.

 

Peter's not sure how he'll play this.

 

"See, if you really think about," Rocket's saying. "We're performing a service on behalf of the galaxy. Think the Xandarin's are gonna wanna risk another war by punishing him? Hell no. All they'll do is wuss out and send him back home where they'll probably give him a medal or somethin'. We're really delivering justice here."

 

Maybe it'll be better if Rocket kills him. It _would_ save Peter a whole world of trouble and embarrassing feelings and stuff like that and really, being emotionally tied to a genocidal maniac can't be healthy. (And he's felt Ronan's anger, mostly at night when he's on watch duty and the only sound is the hum of the Milano's engines. He's felt Ronan stewing, the blind fury burning in his veins. It's the most terrifying thing Peter's ever experienced and Peter's experienced some pretty fucked up things. Like being kidnapped by aliens that one time and grabbing an infinity gem. 

 

Okay, maybe the gem was a little more scary than Ronan's tantrum.) 

 

Yeah, maybe Rocket or Drax finding him first is his best bet.

 

"Alright, guys, let’s get going." Peter says, "Spread out and try to think of the money, gas ain't cheap, you know, and _someone_ likes wasting water by taking extra-long showers," he adds, with a pointed look at Drax.

 

To his surprise Rocket pipes up, "Aww, come on, Quill. Do you have any idea how long it takes to get my fur this silky soft? Do you?"

 

Peter stares at him, "I literally cannot tell if you're being serious right now."

 

Rocket smirks, "Good, let's keep it that way and let's go kill us a Kree!"

-

So, in a shocking twist of fate that has surprised no one (meaning Peter and quite possibly Ronan because soul bond) the universe has decided to continue its campaign to kick Peter's butt.

 

He's got Ronan cornered in a mercifully empty alley and maybe it's better like this because, as several innocent bystanders can attest, even unarmed and uninfinty-stoned Ronan could still probably snap Peter's throat like a twig, the thing is he won't. 

 

He won't even _touch_ Peter, let alone hurt him. 

 

It's bizarre. Peter's shot at him a few times and even gotten in a few punches and it stung a little but it wasn't frigging _paralysing_. Maybe some people are just more affected by the bond than others. He can feel Ronan's fear, bright and biting under his skin and there's this _need_ to touch him that, quite frankly, makes Peter feel a little sick.

 

Ronan looks different when he's not wearing twenty pounds of black gunk and that weird hood thing, not like attractive but okay, attractive. But evil. Still really, really evil. There's a tear on Ronan's left sleeve and Peter can just about see Ronan's words glowing, actually frigging glowing. 

 

(And they're the same shade of red as his God damned coat.)

 

He should probably call for the others, they're going to realise he's not checking in soon anyway. He can hear them nattering in his comms piece, Rocket's still giving Drax creative suggestions on how to kill Ronan and Gamora's trying get them to focus. He switches his comms onto mute. Peter's starting to wish he'd just stayed on the ship with Groot. 

 

"Well, what are you waiting for, Terran?" Ronan spits. He's not cowering - not that Peter thought he would - he's standing, fists clenched, head held high. If Ronan hadn't gone to such lengths to avoid touching him - or like anything - he'd be a little intimidated. "Shoot me and put us both out of this misery."

 

Peter really, really should.

 

"I'm not gonna shoot you, Ronan. You're worth double alive."

 

Ronan snorts, "Oh, yes? Are we both pretending that's the reason you refuse to shoot me?" 

 

"Wow, bitter. Are you going to come along quietly or do I have to..." He wants to say shoot but they've literally just been over why that's unlikely to happen. "To _something_." He finishes lamely.

 

Ronan closes his eyes briefly, "I cannot fathom what I have done to deserve such a fate." 

 

"Believe me, I know exactly how you feel," Peter mutters. "And I haven't even been on any genocidal murder sprees lately."

 

Ronan's anger is a hot flash in the back of Peter's mind. He sets his jaw, "I was doing my _duty_ ," he growls.

 

Peter groans, "Oh my God, you're one of _those_ psychos." Seriously, fuck the universe so much.

 

And then Rocket decides to show up. Peter's pretty sure that by now, this has gone beyond casual bullying; this is the universe abusing him. And it's probably laughing right now. 

 

"Quill! What the hell you doin' back here? And why'd you turn your comms off, you moron!" 

 

Peter turns, "Aww. Were you worried?"

 

"Was I - ? No, but Gamora - “then Rocket looks beyond him. “The hell, Quill?" he growls.

 

"Oh, good, your talking rat is here," Ronan drawls.

 

Rocket snarls, raising his gun, "Careful, _blue_. Just because Quill here's more interested in cash than making you squeal doesn't mean I am." He glances at Peter and reaches up with his free hand to the comms, "I got him guys. Now let's have some fun." 

 

"Come on, Rocket, think of the cash!" 

 

"Oh, _relax_ ," he says dismissively, "We're not gonna kill him. We're just gonna make him beg a little bit and maybe film it. That'd bring him some extra cash."

At this Ronan chuckles, " _You're_ going to make me beg? That will be amusing."

 

Peter glares at him, "You are really not helping."

 

Drax chooses this moment to arrive, with Gamora following close behind. She shoots Peter a meaningful look which Peter ignores. Loudly. If that's possible. 

 

Drax cracks his knuckles, "Finally." 

 

"We've done this before," Ronan says. "As I recall, it did not end so well for you." 

 

"Well, as I recall," Rocket says, pulling something small and dark out of his pocket. "During the rematch I crashed a spaceship into your face. Besides, last time my buddy here didn't have this." 

 

And then he's tossing a taser orb in Ronan's direction and it's all Peter can do to stay standing.

 

-

 

So, as it turns out, having your soul mate beaten to a bloody pulp feels a little shitty. A lot shitty. Like, just shy of how shitty it feels to get beaten to a bloody pulp yourself except you don't pass out at points and also your soul mate is a weird blue alien that lasts way past the point where you would probably have died from internal bleeding. So _way_ shitty.

 

Peter's coping very well by lying on his bunk and groaning periodically. 

 

"You could have just told them, you know," Gamora says from the doorway. Rocket's driving and Drax is probably somewhere washing the blood off his knuckles or something else homely, so Peter's taking this opportunity to really _feel_ his pain.

 

Gamora's told him her kind doesn’t have soul mates, not the way some species do anyway. Rocket doesn't either. He remembers asking Yondu about it once; back when he was still a kid. Yondu had rolled his eyes and snapped, _Son, some species ain't as dumb as yours. We don't need everythin' spelt out to us._

 

"No," Peter says into his pillow.

 

"It would have saved you a lot of pain," she points out.

 

"Well," he mumbles, sitting up. "At least they beat him up outside and didn't get my ship all bloody. Woulda been a pain to clean up." 

 

Gamora hums. "You are going to have to tell them eventually, you know." 

 

"Nope." He has the sudden, overwhelming need to ask Gamora what Ronan's like. She's lived with him, known him for a while so maybe she'll be able to tell him things like what kind of food he likes or his favourite colour or what kind of music - he quickly squashes that thought down, files it away and hopes it never sees the light of day again. 

 

She arches a brow, "So, your plan is to just pretend this isn't happening?" 

 

"I feel like that's the logical response to this situation. It's worked for me before. I mean, how would you deal with this?" 

 

She shrugs.

 

"You're so helpful, Gamora, I really don't know what I would have done without your guidance and support through this trying time."

 

"Well, it could be worse," she says, crossing the room to sit beside him. 

 

"Uh, how?" 

 

"Like you said, you could be mated to my father," she says quietly with a small smile, and then she adds, "or Rocket."

 

Peter snorts, "How would that even work?" 

 

"I'm sure you would find a way."

 

"Wow. I am _wounded_!" He laughs. 

 

Gamora smiles fondly, "So, you'll tell them?"

 

Peter's face falls. He's pretty sure it's the right thing to do; it'd probably save him a whole world of hurt but... Gamora rolls her eyes, "If you say they wouldn't understand I will start cutting off fingers. Drax knows what it is like to have a soul mate, and to lose one."

 

Which is true and logical but, you know, truth and logic have never really been part of Peter's repertoire. "It's not just that, though," he mutters. "It's not like Ronan doesn't deserve this." 

 

Gamora frowns, "So, you're concerned that they will treat him differently? You think they might show him leniency?" 

 

Peter's not deluded, he knows that if the Xandarians decide to execute Ronan they won't let his link to him affect their decision. Well, he hopes. He can deal with it, he won't die. It might put him out of action for a few days but he'll still be alive. 

 

"They won't execute him," Gamora says gently, because apparently she's gained the power to read minds. She pats his arm, semi-comfortingly and stands up. "I have to go and let the Xandarians know we have him in custody. You should rest."

 

Peter hums noncommittally and slumps back down on the bed. He lets himself wallow for a few more minutes before swinging himself up and heading (slowly) into the kitchen. He figures eating something might make him feel a little less shitty. 

 

Drax is already there, sat at the table letting Groot drink a little at a time from a watering can. He smiles as Peter walks in, "It is good to see you up, my friend. I hope that fiend didn't injure you too grievously."

 

Yeah, Peter told Drax and Rocket that he and Ronan fought before they got there. For some reason he decided that letting them believe Ronan kicked his butt pretty well was more appealing than the fact that the universe really wants Peter to spend the rest of his life with a lunatic.

 

"Nah, I'll be fine, Drax," he says with a grin. 

 

"You are limping," Drax observes as Peter crosses to the fridge.

 

"I'm not _limping_ , I'm walking," he protests. "Gingerly," he adds. 

 

Somehow he ends up making burgers, the only meat they have is from some species that Peter can't pronounce and he's always felt safer eating alien meat he can slather in ketchup (still never quite gotten over the no cows in space bullshit. Seriously, if the galaxy knew how great Terran food was Earth would be _rich_.) Drax sits patiently and questions Peter on a few more metaphors. He's learning, slowly but steadily. They might even have him speaking like a normal person sometime soon.

 

Rocket shows up just in time to grab a burger and Peter rolls his eyes, "You're welcome, Rocket." 

 

Rocket waves a dismissive paw in Peter's direction, hopping up onto the table top, "Gamora sent me in here, take it up with her."

 

"I thought it was your turn to pilot," Drax says.

 

"It is, but Gamora thought I should probably eat something so I don't pass out and kill us in a fiery explosion," Rocket says, through a mouthful of burger. "Speaking of which, we should probably feed our esteemed guest at some point."

 

Drax looks confused and Rocket sighs, "Sarcasm, big guy."

 

"Oh," Drax nods thoughtfully. "I do not think I should be the one to do that. I do not think I will be able to resist the urge to injure him further." 

 

"And I," Rocket says, hopping down and licking his paws. "Have to get back to piloting. Looks like you're it, Quill. Oh, and great burgers."

 

Peter groans.

 

-

 

After much deliberation he settles for giving Ronan two slices of bread. If there was mouldy bread he would have gone with that, sadly there was not.

 

They're keeping Ronan in the cargo hold which the Nova Corps were kind enough to build a cell in (because that's something _way_ more useful than more bedrooms) and Peter has to admit the closer he gets to the hold the less shitty he feels.

 

The cell is pretty large; a super strong Plexiglas that probably cost more than Yondu's whole fleet. Ronan looks like Peter feels. He's sat, leant up against the back of cell, bruised and bloody. Peter knows - can feel - that Ronan's thinking about trying to stand up to conserve what little dignity he has left but he must decide that it's not worth it because all he does is sit up straighter, set his jaw and meet Peter's gaze steadily and defiantly.

 

He just needs to drop the bread off and leave.

 

That's it.

 

Just in and out.

 

This is going to be all kinds of awkward.

 

(Especially with his whole body practically screaming at him to crash into that cell and just - _just_ -)

 

Ronan glares at him silently.

 

"Uh, hi," he says, eventually because eloquence.

 

"I, uh, bought you some food." He crosses over to the cell (ignoring the urges telling to do things like bandage his wounds, give him a painkiller and God dammit just kiss him, just touch him, just do it, just _touch_ -) He strokes over the glass, the area he knows the hidden drawer catch should be. He pulls it open and puts the food down carefully, stepping back to watch it fade back into smooth, seamless glass as he pushes it shut.

 

Ronan's gaze darts briefly towards the plate and he sneers, "How kind of you." 

 

(And, dammit, his eyes are still an irreverent purple colour that Peter hasn't ever seen before and they are just _captivating_.) 

 

He can see the words on Ronan's wrist, bright against his skin. He leans forward a little, trying to see what they say. Ronan frowns at him, jerking his wrist back. “What are you doing?"

 

Peter smiles, despite himself, "You know, when my words first showed up, I'd hear 'em at least once a week. I'd get excited every time. Bet your words were kind of weird, huh?" Peter's not actually sure what Ronan will have on his wrist; he has no idea if singing actually counts. That'd be a great thing though, waking up with lyrics on your skin? Well, it'd be great within reason. 

 

It probably wouldn't have been so great for Ronan.

 

Peter's rocking back and forth on the ball of his feet like he hasn't done since he was little, "Can I - uh - what does - what do your words say?"

 

Ronan looks up at him silently, considering for what feels like a very long time. Then eventually he says, "I will show you. But only if you answer something for me."

 

"Sure, shoot," Peter says.

 

Ronan sits forward, watching him intently, "The stone should have killed you. It almost killed _me_ and you are a mere Terran mortal. How were you able to hold it for so long?" 

 

"The power of love, dude," Peter says with a smirk. Ronan clenches his jaw and Peter chuckles, "Alright, alright. It turns out I'm not 100% mere Terran mortal. I'm at least 50% something really awesome."

 

Ronan looks intrigued and, very slowly, he extends his arm. Peter leans forward. Ronan's words are written in a delicate, curled script, rising and falling rhythmically, _oo-ooh child, things are gonna get easier._

 

"You ever heard it?"

 

"Heard what?" 

 

"The song, man." 

 

Ronan rolls his eyes, "Of course I have."

 

"No, man, not sung by me. I mean, like, properly." 

 

Ronan's cheeks colour a little, at least Peter thinks do, he's not actually sure because it's gone almost as soon as it appears and Ronan growls, "I _have_."

 

It takes a few moments for Peter to figure out what he means by that but when he does - _God_ when he does - he laughs harder than he's laughed in a good long while. He's trying to picture Ronan tracking down a copy of that song, listening to it in his dark ship of darkness, trying to be menacing while the singer crooned to him through speakers.

 

"I could still break your neck," Ronan spits, loud enough that Peter forces himself bite back his laughter. 

 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." 

 

He's supposed to be leaving now but his feet aren't obeying and Ronan's just glaring at him, all stupid and angry and God what did he ever _do_ to deserve this? After a few more minutes of awkward hovering Peter resigns himself to his fate, dragging an empty crate over to sit on, "Look," he says. "It's a four day journey back to Xandar and ignoring you sure as hell isn't helping anyone. We may as well - " he trails off when Ronan lets out an exasperated sigh. May as well what? Chat? Get to know each other? 

 

Maybe Peter would have been better off ignoring him. It's not like he has a reason for talking to him beyond the raw need, Ronan isn't going to tell them anything about where Thanos is or what he's planning (not that kick Thanos' butt is high on Peter's to-do list right now.) He doesn't think Ronan was planning anything _immediately_ evil, he was driving a rundown piece of junk and wearing the same torn up, ruined armour he'd been wearing that day on Xandar and besides, they picked him up in Knowhere on his own, didn't really look like he was rallying an army. 

 

"What were you doing in Knowhere, anyway?" He wonders aloud. Ronan, who had been gazing absentmindedly at the floor, meets his gaze again. He looks a little more relaxed, Peter thinks, not _comfortable_ relaxed but at least he looks a little less like a genocidal maniac that would slaughter them all in a second if he could. "Gamora said you were probably trying to get home but that piece of junk coulda got you there easily."

 

Ronan scoffs, "There are ways to travel through Knowhere unseen. That 'piece of junk' is, unfortunately fairly easy to spot." There's a moment where Ronan seems to realise that he's actually being helpful and Peter feels his wave of annoyance. 

 

It's all he can do not to laugh. Gamora had told him during one of his many ‘ _oh my god, my soul mate is an actual monster_ ’ freak outs that most Kree are really affected by their soul bonds. Like super effected. It varies from species to species, Peter's heard, there's always an emotional link but everything else varies. 

 

"Why all the secrecy?" Peter asks which, okay, dumb question since half the fricking galaxy is out for Ronan's blood, but come on; he could easily switch ships and stay under the radar. Peter knows from experience that it's pretty easy to avoid any and all upholders of the law if you know where they are and what they look for. 

 

"Don't flatter yourself," Ronan drawls. "It wasn't to evade you or your little friends from the Nova Corps." 

 

Peter's pretty sure Ronan thinks he's being all veiled and dramatic but there's only one being Peter can think of that would make even Ronan the Accuser think about running back home. "Thanos." Peter says, "Bet he was pretty pissed about that stunt you pulled with the infinity stone, huh?"

 

"Indeed," Ronan murmurs. He's not looking at Peter anymore; instead he's gazing disinterestedly at the far wall. 

 

Peter leans forward, "You don't seem too bothered about being caught. In fact, the only thing that seems to be bothering you is me." He shuffles the crate forward and Ronan practically leaps backwards - well, as far backwards as he can get with his back against the wall. He draws his knees up to his chest and jerks so hard against the wall that there's a loud thudding sound. 

 

Peter chuckles and Ronan hisses. 

 

"That was smooth," Peter observes.

 

"I am not bothered about being caught because there is nothing to be bothered about," Ronan spits. "The Xandarins will not risk killing me, though they will want to, because to do so would inevitably lead to another war which they will lose. They will not risk sending me to one of their prisons for the same reasons. They will eventually agree to send me back home to be imprisoned there, which I will not be for long." 

 

"You're very confident. What'd happen if they don't want you back? I mean, you did kinda make a fool of yourself and you've been a PR nightmare, dude."

 

"I was doing my duty," Ronan growls.

 

"You killed thousands of people!" 

 

"For my empire, for my people, in the memory of my father and grandfather!" 

 

"You slaughtered _children_!" 

 

"That is nothing compared to the thousands who died by _their_ hands!" 

 

Okay, this is getting them nowhere and Peter might need to brush up on history to continue this but whatever happened during the war it doesn't justify any of this! Nothing does and this is just so dumb and frustrating because soul mates aren't supposed to mean anything to him. (But he can remember being a little kid and asking his mom how it felt to find them and she'd told him how wonderful it felt and in a strange way it does. There's part of him that's singing just being near Ronan. There's part of him that feels so right being here, so _god damned_ complete.) He stands up with a frustrated growl, "This can't be right! There is no way I'm meant to be with you. You're a monster." 

 

There's a moment where Ronan actually looks hurt but then it's gone and he sneers, "Yes, and what does that make _you_?"

 

And, well, fuck. 

 

Peter storms out and if the Milano's doors could be slammed you can bet he would've. He stomps right off to the bunk room and stands there for a minute, fuming. Now's usually the part where he grabs up his headphones and ignores the world until the fury in his gut starts to fade but right now it's the last thing he feels like doing.

 

Too many of them are love songs.

 

He could always go on a bender, that's always been his last resort kind of thing. But that's probably really irresponsible. He's, like, a hero now and heroes don't drink themselves under the table just because -

 

Aww, screw it. He's got some booze ‘round here somewhere.

 

-

 

There is a strange burning in his chest, an ever present warmth that is not entirely unpleasant, rather it demands to be felt unlike anything he has ever experienced before. It is maddening, part of him is more content than he has ever been, yet the other is crying out with how unsatisfied he is.

 

He is not naive; he knows that this all because of that Terran. 

 

He clenches his fists against the cold metal floor of his tiny prison. He is so horrifically helpless here. Oh, he is confident that he could fight off the Terran and his little band of misfits, weapons or no weapons, but this cell is too strong even for him. He could pound his fists bloody against the glass and it would not even leave a scratch yet alone shatter.

 

His best bet is to wait until one of them of is idiotic enough to enter his cell. He can overpower them, subdue the rest of the crew, maybe jettison them off into deep space and commandeer the craft. 

 

He is sure he can do it. He may not be able to physically harm the Terran but pushing a small button to release an airlock should be doable. It will hurt, of that he has no doubt. His mother told him once that after his father slaughtered his intended he could be barely move for the pain. 

 

Ronan is no stranger to pain. When he first grasped that stone he felt like his entire being was coming apart at the seams, it abated quickly but that memory is still there. Bright and hot and lingering.

 

It has left him wrecked. 

 

He must get out of here, he is too easy a target for Thanos, but if he escapes where should he run to? If he goes back to Knowhere he has no doubt that he will find the Nova Corps waiting, if they will brave the mining colony and if not he is sure that they will be able to find some group or another willing to apprehend him. 

 

Perhaps this is what Thanos always wanted, for him to be taken back to Xandar where the infinity stone is hidden. Thanos is always in it for the long haul, Ronan has noticed, but there is no way he could have foreseen Ronan's betrayal of him, no way he could have known how things would unfold on Xandar all those days ago.

 

This is his true plan, perhaps; to drive Ronan to madness and paranoia wondering. 

 

He is yanked from his musing by the soft snick of the door sliding opening, and though he knows it is not, he still finds himself hoping it is the Terran returning. It sets his teeth on edge and he curses himself for it.

 

Instead, he is met with a familiar face. 

 

"Gamora," he says, intrigued. Her face is, as always, almost unreadable but he has known her long enough to see her unease. "To what do I owe this great pleasure?"

 

She curls her lip; it's almost a smirk, but not quite. "I know," Is all she says and for a brief moment he is blissfully unaware of what she means but then the realisation cones crashing down around him. He feels cold all of a sudden but he is flushed with embarrassment and all he can think to do is bare his teeth and snarl.

 

(They have turned him into an _animal_.)

She chuckles and gazes down at him. 

 

He should stand but he does not yet have the energy and to attempt to do so would expose just how weak he is. He meets her gaze and coldly spits, "Are you not going to warn me to stay away from your little pink friend?" 

 

"I don't need to," she replies, coolly. "What I do need to know is whether or not you're still working with my father."

 

Ronan snorts. The suggestion is absurd.

 

She arches a brow, "It is not that ridiculous. You always feared him, you knew what he would do if you crossed him. I'm surprised you found the courage."

 

He is about to open his mouth and bite back, he was never Thanos' puppet, Thanos needed him - but then he is overcome by a sudden wave of dizziness that scatters his words and leaves him struck dumb.

 

This must be Gamora's doing and he glares up at her through the haze that now obscures his vision - poison, this must be poison - and she frowns down at him before coming some unknown conclusion and rolling her eyes, "Peter," she mutters, vanishing.

 

-

 

As it turns it isn't actually that hard to get blind drunk undetected on a small spaceship using only the materials available to you at the time. Okay, so the undetected bit might be a lie but Peter doesn't actually remember that part so he's still counting it. 

 

"Irresponsible," Gamora mutters, pressing a cool glass of water into Peter's hands.

 

What he does remember is drinking most of his stash and hiding out in the engine room. Just like when he was a kid.

 

"I dunno," Rocket sniggers. "People would pay to shit like that. Are all Terran's that hilarious when they're drunk? And Kree," he breaks off with a bark of laughter. "That boy has never had a drop of alcohol, I'd bet you my take of the orb job. I should have taken pictures. What did you do, Quill? Spike his bread?" 

 

If Peter wasn't feeling like he was about to throw up he'd probably laugh, "Somethin' like that," he says between sips. "What'd he actually do?" 

 

"Kinda just lay around looking spaced out and whined a bit," Rocket says. "Still funny, though." 

 

Gamora shoots him a sharp look and he raises his paws, "Okay, okay." He grabs the last piece of toast off the table and scoops Groot's pot up with his free hand, "Come on, Groot, let's go get some shut eye and leave these walking messes to deal with their shit."

 

"I am Groot," Groot yawns.

 

"I know, I know," Rocket says as they walk out of the kitchen. "But they don't understand stuff like that!" 

 

Peter has no idea what Rocket's on about and he is definitely not together enough to try and figure it out, instead he squints up at Gamora and slurs, "D'you think they're soul mates?"

 

"Rocket and Groot?" Gamora looks after them thoughtfully, leaning against the table. "It wouldn't surprise me. They do a share a very strong bond."

 

If they are soul mates it's not romantic, Peter thinks (hopes?) anyway. God, those are some unwanted images. He groans and presses the cool glass to his forehead. 

 

"This is why you shouldn't drink so much. Especially when we have such a prisoner aboard," Gamora says, unsympathetically. But she crosses the room to the broken cupboard they keep their woefully inadequate med kit and pulls out what Peter dearly hopes is a painkiller.

 

"Oh, come on, what would you do in this situation?" He mumbles, accepting the pill. Gamora probably wouldn't drink, she might have killed something though, or at the very least maimed. She ignores this question though, crosses her arms, "He says he believes Thanos is after him." 

Peter looks up at her, trying to figure out if that's a question or a statement.

"Is he lying?"

Oh great, so now he's being used as a Kree lie detector. Peter wants to say he has no idea but he can feel an undercurrent of raw terror in Ronan, has always been able to feel. "I don't think so." 

 

"Do you think this is something we need to worry about?"

 

Well, he's only one of the most feared beings in the cosmos, Peter thinks but that's the hangover talking. He shrugs, "I mean, do you think he'd waste his time on someone like Ronan?"

 

Gamora sighs, looks away, "He might. He never liked Ronan much; he might want to send a message. He'll want the orb back too. He might be above petty revenge but killing Ronan is something I imagine he would enjoy."

 

The idea of Thanos killing Ronan makes Peter feel all kinds of uncomfortable and he really doesn't want to deal with this now. He stands up (and spends a good few seconds trying not to puke all over the table.) "It's supposed to be my go to drive," he says.

 

Gamora grabs his arm before he goes, "No," she says firmly. "You can barely walk in a straight line and I, shockingly, value living. Drax can do it." 

 

Peter's not going to argue with that.

 

-

 

He's sprawled unhappily across his bunk when the tapes clicked into place. It's not unusual anymore, for Gamora or Rocket to play music while they're driving, Rocket's even hooked up a proper sound system for it. (Though he still won't admit to singing along to some of the slower stuff.) 

 

He knows by the first note that it's his first tape. The songs he's been listening to on repeat for the past two decades. 

 

By the time _that_ song comes on he's resigned himself to his fate.

 

He stops off in the kitchen on his way to pick up a painkiller; if this bond is as ridiculously deep (seriously, what the fuck is up with that) as Peter thinks it is Ronan'll need it.

 

Ronan's sat in almost the exact same position he was when a Peter left him last night, the bread's still there too, untouched. Ronan glares at him. Peter's spent the better part of a day trying to picture Ronan drunk, he didn't have much luck but right now Ronan looks even shittier than before, if that's possible.

 

He also looks insanely uncomfortable. 

 

The music's fainter in here but Peter can still hear it and judging by Ronan's stormy expression he can too. 

 

"Morning," Peter greets. "Or afternoon, or evening, something. I can never tell in space." He drops the medicine and a bottle of water into the cell drawer. "Don't freak out, it's just a pain killer."

 

"You know," he says, pulling the crate back across to sit on. "Even evil Kree warlords need to eat sometime." He does, right? He must do. Peter's only really met pink Kree before this and they certainly need to eat. When Ronan doesn't move Peter sighs, "It's not poisonous, I promise."

 

"Why should I believe you?" Ronan mutters.

 

"Because, dude. Why would I poison you? There's literally nothing I'd gain from that. Besides, you're worth way more alive." 

 

Ronan glowers but he leans forward and snatches up the pill, "At least if this is poison I can be comforted by the knowledge that you will also suffer."

 

"That's the spirit," Peter grins.

 

-

 

Terrans talk a lot. At least, judging by this moron.

 

But, though Ronan is loathe to admit it, he is finding the Terrans voice almost soothing. The Terran is telling him of his childhood amongst the Ravagers, of the music playing softly through the ship and every now and again he smiles and something in Ronan's chest flutters.

 

It is truly _disgusting_.

-

 

Peter ends up going to bed pretty early, his head is still pounding and Gamora won't let him drive so there's not much else he can do. Sure, he spends an hour or so talking to Ronan, well, talking _at_ Ronan, but there's only so much time he can spend with the guy before he starts thinking about all the horrific shit Ronan's done and feels like he needs to be cleansed.

 

He's having pretty nice dream about that, in fact, when the explosion wakes him by throwing him off the bunk.

 

His first thought is, _why the hell am I on the floor_ , followed swiftly by, _I just got her all fixed up!_ God, he is going to make whoever's wrecking his ship pay. With their _lives_.

 

He doesn't have time to come up any imaginative tortures because Rocket's suddenly in front of him, guns at the ready, "Take Groot," he yells, pushing the pot towards him while Peter's scrambling for his quad blasters. "Make sure the cargos safe!" 

 

"We know who's shooting us?" Peter yells back, staggering as another blast hits the ship. When he can stand straight again he grabs his boots and coat.

 

"No idea," Rocket hollers. "But if we can't shake 'em we're going down, Quill."

 

Peter scoops Groot up and holds him close, following Rocket out of the bunk room, "You look after my ship, Rocket!"

 

Rocket turns back to him and grins, "Sure, Quill. Oh! And here!"

 

He tosses him something clunky and metal.

 

"The hell are these for?" 

 

"They're handcuffs, genius!"

 

"I am Groot," Groot says urgently. 

 

"He's right, go, Peter!" Rocket yells.

 

Peter doesn't need telling twice.

 

Ronan's on his feet when Peter crashes into the cargo hold. There's a brief moment where Peter lets himself feel the relief and panic swirling through their bond but then it's all action because Gamora over the speakers says, "I can't shake them, they're going to bring us down either way so I'm attempting an emergency landing. The nearest planet’s abandoned but the atmosphere is safe."

 

"Hold on to your butts, guys," Rocket signs off.

 

"Okay," Peter says, (don't panic, Gamora's a great pilot; you've got like, at least a 40% chance of living.) "I'm going to let you out but you gotta let me put these on you." He waves the cuffs.

 

"Actually, it is much safer in here," Ronan points out.

 

"Fuck, you're right." Usually, getting into an enclosed space with a genocidal maniac would be something even Peter would think twice about but under the circumstances...

 

"Let me put these on you," he says.

 

Ronan snorts, "No."

"We don't have time to argue about this!" Peter yells, as another explosion rocks the ship.

 

"You're right," Ronan says calmly “we don't.”

 

" _I am Groot_!"

 

Groot's right, if they stand here arguing they're both going to die a fiery, fiery death and Peter just isn't about that. "Fuck it," he yells, throwing open the cell door. Suddenly it feels about 200% smaller in there than it probably is. The door hisses shut behind and melts back into the smooth, featureless glass. 

 

"You do of course realise that now we are both trapped in here," Ronan says.

 

"I am Groot," Groot agrees.

 

"Yes, but now there's only a 20% chance of us dying a horrible fiery death," he says to Groot. 

 

"Optimistic," Ronan mutters. 

 

"Oh my God, shut the hell up!" 

 

"We're going down boys and girls!" Rocket's voice comes over the speaker system, and suddenly they're lurching, flying through space and Groot's clinging to him, tiny branches digging into his skin and he's being thrown against the wall of the cell and then he's upside down and then he's right side up, and everything's exploding, everything's on fire and -

 

There's a crack in the cell wall.

 

"I am Groot!" The plant yells. 

 

And then there are arms - arms - wrapping themselves around him, holding him fast, and then -

 

It’s around this time that his brain checks out.

-

When Peter wakes up the world has stopped exploding and is mostly the right side up again. He's pretty sure his left arms broken, or at least sprained, but he's got pain killers and adrenaline and all sorts of great things hidden in his boots so he should be - shit, Groot.

 

He sits up a little, leaning on his good arm, there are pieces of shattered pottery all around him and fuck, not again but then something touches his arm and he turns. Little Groot is standing there, beaming and unharmed; "I am Groot!" He says happily, waving his legs.

 

"Thank God," Peter sighs. "Hey, buddy, you think you could gimme a hand here? There's a little compartment in my left boot, I need you to grab me out a hypo spray, okay?"

 

"I am Groot," he nods, and Peter sits up properly, cradling his arm to his chest. His comms is sputtering uselessly in his ear. Stupid thing must have got fucked up during the crash, he'd told Rocket to spring for sturdier models.

 

The planet is dry, arid, covered in gritty, blue-grey sand. The sky’s a pale pink but Peter thinks that's probably because the sun’s going down (and if it's not he knows some ladies who'll just love this view.) There are mountains a little ways off in the distance and huge chunks of glass and shattered crates spread all out around them but there aren't any chunks of space ship. 

 

"Weird," he mutters.

 

"I believe your friends are to blame for this," comes a drawl from behind him. Oh, right, Ronan. "They jettisoned the cargo hold as we entered the atmosphere. Morons."

 

Peter waits until Groot's retrieved the medicine and he's jammed it unceremoniously into his broken arm before twisting himself around. It'll take a few minutes for the painkiller to kick in.

Ronan's sat a little way behind him, there's a huge gash on his head and from what Peter can see his arms are covered in tiny cuts. It can't hurt too much though; all Peter can really feel is a slight light-headedness. 

"They wouldn't do that," he says, holding his arm out for Groot to clamber up onto his shoulder. Although it would make sense because unless they vaporised on impact there aren't that many other options. 

"Oh, they did," Ronan says flatly. 

Peter exchanges a look with Groot, "They wouldn't do that to us, would they?" He mouths. Groot shrugs. Peter turns back to Ronan, "How would you know?"

"Somebody had to stay awake to try and keep us alive," Ronan grits out.

Peter ducks his head, "Right, thanks for that." (He can almost still feel those arms encircling him.) 

"I am Groot," Groot says quietly. 

"Groot's right," Peter says, getting gingerly to his feet. "We need to find the others."

Ronan sighs, "Must we?" He looks up as Peter approaches, expression stormy. "You know, there's absolutely no reason I should follow you."

Peter sighs. The list of things he didn't imagine having to deal with today, or tonight or whatever the hell time it is here, is pretty long but he's pretty sure 'talk a huge genocidal blue Kree into growing up and getting off his butt' was so absurd it didn't even occur to him. "Well, what the hell else are you gonna do? ’Cos I'm pretty sure our party guests weren't trashing my ship because they were looking for me." 

"I am perfectly capable of looking after myself, Terran," Ronan growls. 

Up closer now he can see that's Ronan's pretty much covered in cuts and bruises and judging by the way he's gripping a nearby piece of debris just a fraction too tightly, like he's afraid of letting go, tells an entirely different story. "Can you even stand up?"

Ronan glares up at him, "Of course I can!" 

He can't. He so can't. It'd be almost cute if it wasn't, you know, Ronan. Peter bites back a smile. 

"I am Groot!" Groot chirps from Peter's shoulder.

"He's right, Ronan, you don't look like you can walk." 

Ronan snarls.

"Look, the way I see it, you can either sit here until whoever those guys that brought down my ship - that, I might add, I just had rebuilt after saving the galaxy from your dumb ass - to come and do God knows what, or you can come with me, who probably won't kill you and is still invested in the idea of getting you to Xandar alive so I can pick up that ridiculously large bounty."

"Or," Ronan says, "I could snap your neck, find and do the same to your little friends and steal your ship."

"Well, you better get going, dude," Peter says. "We'll even give you a ten minute head start, right, Groot?"

"I am Groot!"

Ronan clenches his jaw and looks away. He's probably got a pretty nasty concussion (if Kree get those) and - and Peter's blaming this entirely on this ridiculous soul mate thing - Peter actually feels a little sorry for him. He sighs, and kneels back down with some difficulty. "Look, this is sucky for both of us but we've probably got to accept at some point that this," he gestures to Ronan's wrist, "is a thing that is happening. It's an awful, shitty thing but it is definitely a thing and we can't run away from it." 

Ronan gives him a baleful look. 

"Plus, you kind of saved my life which I'm like, really grateful for so you must at least feel something because lately I'm realising that there's not really anyone that's 100% a dick. Now, don't get me wrong, if there was anyone out there that was 100% a dick you'd be pretty high on the list of contenders, but there's got to be something in there that isn't genocidal maniac. Come on," he holds out his good arm and to his surprise Ronan actually takes it (gripping his wrist, just above his hand.) 

"I would find having a Xandarin as a soul mate more agreeable than having you," Ronan spits, just before Peter hefts him up.

"Aww, you too, sweetie," Peter says back, as Ronan sways. Peter can feel how dizzy he is yet he can't feel it. It's pretty trippy actually. "Steady on," he says, putting one hand Ronan's arm to ground him. 

"I hate you," Ronan mumbles.

"Great, the feeling is mutual. Now, did you happen to see which way the rest of the ship went?" 

Ronan gestures vaguely to the left, "They were being pursued by two ships, I don't fancy their chances."

"Well, I don't fancy your chances if you don't shut the hell up." 

-

It's slow going. Apparently Kree concussions, or whatever the hell is up with Ronan, work a lot like human ones and Peter should know, he's practically a concussion connoisseur. The Ravager’s doctor used to joke about him deserving frequent flyer miles.

Ronan can actually be pretty whiney too. Even Groot starts to get pissed off. Peter doesn't really have the right to be angry since Ronan got concussed shielding him and Groot (but then again they wouldn't be in this shitty situation if it wasn't for Ronan in the first place.) 

The whole thing makes his head hurt.

But hey, at least his arm seems to be working again so he won't need to worry about makeshift casts and stuff.

It also turns out that Peter was right, it was sunset and apparently this was one of those freezing at night planets. 

"I am Groot," Groot says, quietly into his ear.

"I know, Groot, but come on; they might be just over those hills." He has no idea how long they've been walking, it's gotten to the point where he's not sure how to stop walking. It's just one foot and then the other, over and over and over. Just over those hills, just beyond that tree-looking thing, just out of reach, they're just out of reach.

"I am Groot," he insists. 

"What...?" Peter looks back to where Ronan's trailing behind again, swaying a little and blinking hard. He keeps having to go back and let Ronan lean on him for a little while but this time he's too exhausted. "Alright, we'll find somewhere to stop." He says, stifling a yawn.

He drops back to let Ronan catch up to him.

"We're gonna stop, okay?" 

For a moment Peter thinks Ronan'll protest, call him weak and remind him that he's a Kree, not a puny Terran but Ronan just nods, mutely. He looks so miserable. God, why couldn't Ronan be a normal, not blood thirsty Kree? This would be so much easier.

They find a sheltered area at the bottom of that hill Peter had pinned all his hopes on. (The others and his ship weren't just on the other side.) 

"I am Groot," Groot says as soon as they've settled down. Groot's decided that Peter's lap is where he's staying for the night. The cave - well it isn't really a cave, more an indent under an overhang - they're using as a shelter is pretty small, he and Ronan can't help but brush up against each other even though Ronan's pressed himself as far as he can into the opposite corner. 

"You don't know that Groot," Peter mumbles, sleepily.

Ronan shifts, looking at him questioningly.

Peter sighs, "Groot says that if you've got a concussion you're not supposed to sleep."

"I do not have a concussion," Ronan mutters. It occurs to Peter that Ronan probably hasn't slept since they picked him up two days ago, Kree's might be more resilient than humans but Peter's pretty sure even they need their beauty sleep. "I should stand guard." Ronan says.

Peter is way too tired for this shit. "Sure, whatever, man. Just do it quietly, okay? And don't try and run off, 'cos I'll know, okay? I'll wake the hell up and grab you, I'm like a ninja, right? And don't forget, I've still got those handcuffs and I am not above cuffing us together." 

There's no response so Peter glances over to find that Ronan's slumped to one side, eyes closed. 

"Jesus," he mumbles, "I sure hope he's not dead."

"I am Groot," Groot yawns, snuggling deeper into Peter's coat.

"You're right, buddy, I probably would know." 

-

It's daylight when Peter wakes up, for all that that tells him. He also realises that at some point he's slumped against Ronan and thrown an arm across the Kree's chest. God, he is so going to need therapy for this shit. He sits up slowly, trying desperately not to wake up Ronan because, uh, awkward. 

(And yeah, he's definitely going to ignore the feeling of loss he gets when he disentangles himself.)

Groot's up too, stretching his arms up to sky and swaying slightly. 

"The hell are you doing?" Peter yawns, stretching. Groot just smiles at him and goes back to whatever it is he's doing. 

Peter stands up with some difficulty, apparently sleeping in tiny hill cave things doesn't agree with his leg muscles. He walks over to sit down beside Groot, pulling the broken comms device from his pocket. It looks like it could be fixable of be had a few basic tools. Groot wanders over and leans across his lap to examine it, "I am Groot," he says sadly.

"Yeah, you're right. This isn't gonna work anytime soon." He sighs. If whoever shot them down doesn't kill them they'll probably die wandering around lost. "Hey, Groot? If I die before Ronan don't let him eat me." 

"I am Groot..."

"You don't even eat meat!" 

Groot shrugs and sits himself down beside Peter, "I am Groot?" 

"Keep walking, I guess," he mutters. They don't even know if they're going in the right direction, maybe they should stay put and hope the others manage to get the Milano working to come find them. If the others are even alive - nope he is not letting himself think like that.

They're all alive and he'll find them. It'll all be okay. They'll fix up the ship get the hell out of here and -

"Terran!" Ronan hisses. 

Peter jumps, instinctively grabbing Groot up and to his chest. He turns to find Ronan beckoning to him urgently and as he moves to stand up Ronan indicates for him to stay low. "This had better be good," Peter mutters, letting Groot scramble onto his shoulders before crawling back towards the cave.

"What?" Peter hisses when he gets there.

Ronan presses a finger to his lips and whispers, "Listen." 

Peter can't hear anything but there's no reason Ronan would lie so he strains and eventually he's able to make out voices. Unfamiliar voices. "Fuck," he whispers. "How far off are they?"

Ronan shakes his head, "I cannot tell. Not too far."

"Shit, okay, okay." They've got weapons and Peter's been in far, far worse situations. He unholsters the quad blasters. The voices are closer now, more audible. Peter groans, Ravagers. Yondu can't be with them though, if he were this would've been much neater, he would be dead and Ronan'd probably be captured, or dead too, and Peter wouldn't be kneeling in the sand like a jackass. 

He wonders who it is, if they've defected of if Yondu's just turning a blind eye.

He wonders if Yondu opened the orb yet.

"That filthy backstabbing little traitor deserves all o' this an' more," one of the voices is saying, loudly. "All we're doin' is getting the money we're owed for defending that proxy little planet and remember, boys, we want that Kree alive. He's worth much more alive."

Ronan raises an eyebrow, "Friends of yours?" 

"Shut the fuck up," Peter hisses. 

"I am -” 

Peter cuts Groot off, "Don't you start."  
Groot sighs and shakes his head.

"How many do you think there are?" 

Ronan considers this, "Six or seven. There will be more though. There were three ships."

Fuck. Peter's pretty sure they could take these six. Maybe, depending on who's involved, like there were definitely a bunch of Ravagers Peter would not want to mess with. Luckily most of them were pretty loyal to Yondu, so he can always dream. 

The thing is as soon as they see them the Ravagers'll call for back up and who knows what that'll mean. But they can't exactly run either, they've got nowhere to run and aside from a few widely spaced hills the land around them is flat.

The voices are close enough now that Peter can start to identify them. He doesn't recognise most of them, there's one - the lead one that he does though, Morack, a spineless little something with greeny-yellow skin and pitch black eyes. Peter's wanted to shoot him in the face for a long fucking time.

Peter's only got two weapons, Groot's too small to be of any help and god knows what Ronan'll do, not that Ronan looks up to doing much of anything.

Hopefully, the others will have taken out most of the Ravagers. 

Hopefully. 

"Okay," Peter says, "Here's what we do, we stay hidden, take them by surprise. Leave one alive, they'll be able to tell us where the others are." 

"If they're even alive..." Ronan mutters.

"Hey, I'm the one with the guns, okay? And I will shoot you." He turns to Groot, "I need you to be our eyes, okay? Stay out of sight." 

Groot nods and scrambles down, "I am Groot!" He whispers, before disappearing out of their hideout. Peter leans out. If he stands up he can see over the top of the overhang, so he does, keeping low. 

"Alright, they don't look like much; I think we can take them."

Ronan rolls his eyes, "Of course I can take them."

-

Turns out they can. Sort of. Barely.

The Ravagers hit them hard and fast with really big guns. Like really big guns. And a ship. And whole array of other horrific, kind of awesome weapons (like that one weird magnetic handcuff thingy they keep trying to use on Ronan; Peter really wants a pair.)

Peter's blasters work for a while but they just keep coming. Morack's been recruiting. 

They take out the first wave easily, Peter with his guns, Ronan with his bare hands and whatever weapons he's stolen but after they call in back up things get tight. 

The first thing they do is try and hit Ronan with a ship (which Peter thinks would probably be a little more effective than the time Rocket tried) and Peter totally saves his life by knocking him out of the way all dramatically. 

Ronan later returns the favour by warning Peter about a Ravager Peter remembers particularly well from his childhood sneaking up from behind. "Quill," Ronan booms and God damn he says Peter's name like it's the filthiest word he knows and it's so horribly wonderful.

(Peter also realises with a jolt that it's the first time Ronan's used his name and it makes him feel all tingly inside. God, he is so royally fucked.) 

Somehow, they manage to not die.

Somehow, Peter convinces Ronan not to kill Morack until he's told them where the others are (Ronan even gives Peter permission to shoot Morack in the face which Peter does happily and then feels kinda sorts bad about it because he's never been about killing.) They find out that the other two Ravager ships have Rocket, Drax and Gamora pinned down about a day’s flight West; apparently Morack couldn't call in more back up because something about this planet's magnetic field makes long range communication almost impossible.

He doesn't say anything about the state of the Milano but Peter lives in hope.

They pile onto the Ravager ship slowly. It's pretty small, there's a cockpit, a bathroom and one main cabin with bunks and a table and even (praise everything in the universe) food. Peter sets the ship on autopilot, hoping Morack hadn't been lying (because if he had Peter was going to drive back, resurrect him somehow and kill him all over again, slowly this time.) 

He tells Groot to watch the road, or, er, planet while he tries to find a med kit of some kind. "Holler if you see anything, okay?"

"I am Groot," he nods.

Ronan's sitting on a bunk in the main cabin, ramrod straight, head-bowed. He looks a mess, Peter thinks, blood and bruises everywhere. Peter didn't get hurt too badly in the fight, a few lasers burns, his arm still twinges and he thinks he might have cracked a rib but he's made it out pretty okay. He finds the meagre med kit tucked away between a box of broken pieces of metal and a pile of dirty clothes. It's tiny and half empty, there's a bottle of antiseptic, some painkillers and a roll of frayed gauze and not much else but it'll do. He cleans out his burns and bandages the worst of them before eating as much food as he can stomach. He brings what he can to Groot (Peter's still not sure if Groot needs to eat, aside from water, or if he just likes it but Groot thanks him all the same.)

Then he turns his attention to Ronan (because if the moron isn't going to take care of himself someone has to do it. Peter tells himself it's for all the extra cash they'll get for turning him in alive, it's nothing to do with the slow, steady feeling of dread and weakness creeping over him or the phantom aches he gets only to glance over at Ronan and find a matching injury.)

He walks over to the Kree, carrying a pan of water with him, and stops right in front of him, "Okay, dude, you have to let me – take care of you - clean out your wounds." 

Ronan glances up at him, eyes narrowed, no doubt about to protest so Peter cuts him off, "Nope. Sorry, you don't get a say in the matter." 

Ronan bares his teeth and holds his gaze but eventually he sighs.

"You gonna let me?" Peter asks.

"Fine," Ronan spits. "But be quick about it."

"Well, if you really wanna die of sepsis that's really your call man," Peter says, but he starts soaking a cloth anyway. The gash on Ronan's head looks filthy and well on its way to being infected, most of the other cuts look pretty minor but there's one on his left arm that looks like it probably needs stitches. 

Peter wipes away the worst of the grime on Ronan's forehead; Ronan tenses up as soon as the cloth touches his skin. If he's being this much of a baby about a little hot water Peter's really dreading the antiseptic. Ronan doesn't fight him though; he lets Peter wash the cuts on his arm and back without one scathing remark. 

"This might sting a little," Peter says as he daubs on the antiseptic. Ronan flinches a little but he stays silent. Peter can feel his pain, his embarrassment and it makes him want to get this over with as soon as he can but at the same he finds himself dragging it out, just to keep touching. 

It's maddening.

He leaves the two worst gashes for last.

Ronan actually lets out a small whimper when Peter starts on his arm and Peter draws his hand back immediately, "You okay?"

"Fine," Ronan grits out. "Just hurry up." 

It doesn't help that Ronan's words are right there just above the cut. Peter can't help himself, gently, he traces them his thumb. It's just so stupid that these words mean so much. 

Ronan's watching him warily, like a cornered animal, but he hasn't snatched his arm back just yet. There's curiosity in his gaze and Peter sighs, goes back to dabbing the cut with antiseptic. The silence is different then, it's not uncomfortable, it's - it's almost expectant. Suffocating.

All there is is the soft hum of the ships engine and every now and again the gentle sloshing of the water.

Ronan has dropped his gaze again, staring at the floor while Peter bandages his arm up.

"That too tight?" 

Ronan shakes his head almost imperceptibly.

Just the head wound left.

He's reaching up to tilt Ronan's head up so he has better access to the cut when something inside him snaps.  
"This is so fucking dumb," he says, dropping the cloth.

Ronan looks up at him.

"This isn't meant to be happening to me," he mutters, picking the cloth back up again and using his other hand to tilt Ronan's head. (His skin is so warm.) "I was meant to be free and unattached my whole life so I could just have fun. And then you come along..." He trails off as he presses the cloth to Ronan's forehead. 

Ronan sighs, "As I have said before, the feeling is -”

Peter cuts him off, "It's not that. It's not that you're a genocidal maniac who tried to use a magic gem to destroy an entire planet. I mean it is, a little bit, but it's not. It's this." 

Ronan frowns, "What?" 

"This fucking -” he sighs, removing the cloth, letting his hand fall to his side. He doesn't remove his other hand though, keeps it cupping Ronan's face. "Whatever this is, it's driving me insane."

Ronan sighs and closes his eyes, actually leaning into Peter's touch, "That too is mutual." He rumbles. 

It's ridiculous, the whole this is ridiculous and Peter laughs a little rawley, "I have no idea how I'm meant to feel about you." 

(God, when did his life stop being Indiana Jones in space and become a chick flick?)

Ronan hums. 

Peter figures this is the part where the cheesy romance movie music would kick in but his life isn't a movie and after a few moments Ronan shifts away from his touch. Peter's hand feels suddenly very cold. 

Peter clears his throat, "I kinda hope the Xandarins don't execute you." Which is definitely the thing to say to your soul mate. 

Ronan looks surprised for a few moments but then the corner of his mouth quirks up in amusement, "Do not worry. They won't." 

If this was anyone else, anyone else, Peter thinks, he'd know what to do. But it's not anyone else, it's Ronan the Accuser, sat in front of him silently, bandages everywhere and it just feels right. He cuts off a piece of gauze and Ronan leans back a little so he can tape it into place across the cut. He lets his fingers linger there a little longer than necessary.

If Ronan leant forward just a fraction his forehead would be resting against Peter's chest. Peter finds himself hoping he does.

"All done," he says in a somewhat strangled voice, turning away and heading back into the cockpit.

\- 

Ronan is completely unsure of what to do.

He is certain that if he asked Qu- the Terran to allow him to stay, to not hand him over to the Xandarins he would. The Terran’s friends would not be pleased, that much is certain but the burning need he know feels throughout his entire being will quiet and he will be able to think straight. (He hopes.)

Yet, if he does that he will put the Terran at risk. 

And Thanos will be difficult enough to avoid if he is alone.

He thinks, in his darker moments, that Thanos somehow knows of his unfortunate bond mate, though there is no reason he should. If he did he would laugh, of that Ronan has no doubt.

He would not understand why Ronan did not simply rid himself of this irksome burden and Ronan has found that there is some part of the man he was before all this that resides within him, the part that hisses and demands Xandarin blood, the part that urges Ronan to just snap his neck and he would dearly love to. 

(Except that he hasn't had such tender treatments ever in his life before and it would be so easy to just allow it to happen.)

The Terran must be driving the ship now because the strange little tree creature has wandered in. Ronan looks up, he has never seen such a manner of creature before and he finds it endlessly intriguing. The creature has stopped a little way from him, gazing up at him with it's pitch black eyes, "I am Groot," It says.

Ronan has no idea how the Terran seems to understand what the plant is saying but he has the distinct impression that he is being told off. He cocks his head and the creature repeats itself, "I am Groot."

Ronan stares, thankfully the Terran soon appears.

"I don't think your tree likes me," Ronan says.

Peter sighs, bending down to scoop Groot up, "Well, you did inadvertently cause his death," he says, straightening up. 

"I did?" He certainly recalls a bigger tree creature that disappeared at some point but he doesn't remember actually killing it. 

Peter grimaces and then says, "We're about a mile away from where Morack said the others were. We're walking from here; at least we'll have the element of surprise."

He doesn't sound very confident.

Ronan doesn't point it out.

"I'm gonna go see if there're any working weapons." The Terran says, turning away from him. “Oh," he adds, turning back, "and Groot was telling you that if you hurt anyone he'll hurt you right back."

"I am Groot," the plant says.

-

Yondu's there because of course Yondu's there.

But then again, better the monster you know, right?

One of Morack's men had called him while fleeing the planet when he realised that a bunch of badly organised Ravagers trying to capture a galaxy class assassin, a hyper-intelligent, hyper-violent Raccoon and someone whose name is literally the destroyer wasn't really a great idea. Yondu had promptly dragged him back and shot the poor idiot in the head, of course, because Yondu really, really doesn't like traitors.

So now they're here, surrounded on all sides by Ravagers again while Yondu smirks and Ronan somehow still manages to look intimidating even while he's got bandages everywhere. Groot's on his shoulder, glaring at Yondu.

"I told you, boy," Yondu says. "You cross me one more time an' I'd put a bullet in your brain. Didn't I tell him, Kraglin?"

Kraglin nods, "You did indeed, boss." He's got a gun held to Gamora's head, all of them are cuffed, wrists and ankles, and weaponless. 

At least they're alive.

"Look, Yondu, you know I couldn't give you the orb, you get that right?" He says, carefully. 

"You think I'm touched in the head, boy? You know I weren't gonna use the damn thing, just sell it on." 

"To God knows where! Come on, man, you don't want to have a hand in destroying the universe, do you? Not after you guys worked so hard to save it!" 

Yondu grins, "Well, look-ee here at our very own hero!" The Ravagers snigger and Yondu continues, "How you turned out so God damn decent, kid. Makes me sick. What'd the galaxy ever do for you, huh?' 

"See, that's what I said," Rocket mutters.

"Now me? Me? I done so much for you, kid."

"Oh my God," Peter sighs. "If you're about to bring up the eating thing again -”

Yondu raises an eyebrow, "I done you a kindness, boy. Now, I gotta admit, it took balls to do what you did with that orb and for that I'm gonna give you a choice." 

A horrific, no good choice, Peter thinks.

"I'm a fair man,' Yondu says, "I think you'll all agree and, Peter, you may have been nothin' but a disappointment to all of us mosta the time but you tickle me so I may be tempted to give you another pass." There's a rumbling from the Ravagers and Yondu whistles out his arrow, "Quiet! Now, as I was saying," he whistles again and the arrow is suddenly in front of Peter, hovering just in front his left eye.

Peter swallows but he doesn't flinch. If he plays his cards right they can all get out of this alive. 

"You got two choices here, Quill. The first is that you lemme take your boy here," he says, indicating Ronan. "I got more than a few buyers lined up for him, thought we'd maybe auction him off, he'd fetch a pretty price. More than your little Nova Corps were willing to pay."

"I said that too," Rocket adds.

Yondu ignores him and with a whistle the arrow darts across to hover in front of Ronan. Right between his eyes. "'Sides, they might make him squeal rather than sending him off to some cushy Kree jail." 

Ronan snorts but he doesn't say anything. He's calm, Peter can feel and he's not entirely sure why.

"Thought you didn't care about justice," Peter says.

"I don't. I just ain't gonna stand in the way of a little good old fashioned revenge," Yondu shrugs.

"Sounds like a good deal to me," Rocket says. "You gonna let us go if we give you that fucking nut job?"

Yondu turns and grins at him, "Sorta. I'll be takin' your ship too, so I know you ain't gonna follow me." He turns back to Peter, "and yes, I'll be takin' your silly little tape as a punishment."

Rocket shrugs, "Still sounds like a good deal."

Peter should say yes. For all he knows Yondu doesn't know about the Ravager ship they've got hidden a little way off and even if he does it wouldn't be that hard to get off the planet. He's pretty sure Rocket could whip something up from what little they've got. 

But all he can think off is Ronan screaming, Ronan dying. 

He licks his lips, "What's the second option?" 

Rocket groans, "Oh my God, Quill."

Yondu actually looks faintly surprised, "The second option?" He whistles again and the arrows back, closer this time. Peter swallows. "Well, that's the one where we shoot your little friends in the head and this arrow goes in through your eye and out the other side."

"The first option sounds far more pleasurable," Drax is saying but Peter only barely hears him because Ronan growls, "You wouldn't dare." 

Yondu's the only one not fazed, Rocket and Drax are gawping, Gamora is staring and even Ronan himself looks mildly surprised. Fuck, Peter's thinking. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Careful, blue," Yondu says, whistling the arrow back over to Ronan. "You may be worth more alive but your pretty little head'll still fetch a handsome price." 

"Come on, Yondu," Peter begins, Yondu cuts him off, "Watch it, boy. I might just pick the second option for you."

"I do not understand why you do not just allow him to take that monstrosity," Drax says.

"Yeah, come on, Quill," Rocket adds. "He might be worth a lot of money but I'd rather live, you know?" 

Peter's mouth is suddenly dry. This is it. He's going to have to tell them or they'll all be killed. But then -

"Might I remind you that we are not only keeping Ronan alive for the money," Gamora says, head held high. "Killing him could start a war with the Kree. They'd want your head, Yondu."

Yondu scoffs, "Plenty of people want my head, darlin'. None of 'em have got it yet."

"It'll be different this time," Gamora continues. "The Kree Empire is wealthy and strong, they could have half the universe out looking for you with ease. You won't be able to run forever." 

Yondu seems to consider this for a minute, "I'll risk it," then he grins, twirls to face Peter again. "What I do wanna know though, is why your little green girlfriend over there is so desperate to keep this lunatic alive." 

Gamora catches his eye, I tried, her gaze says. Now grow the hell up and tell the truth.

"I am Groot," Groot says quietly. 

"I could kill him right now, you know," Yondu says.

Really, Peter has nothing to gain by telling them. It probably won't change Yondu's mind, why would it? Yondu doesn't give a shit about soul mates and the like, doesn't believe in them. Maybe he'll leave Ronan alive just to torture Peter, that sounds like something Yondu would do. 

"Come on, boy, spill." 

Peter sighs; he wonders who'll laugh louder, Rocker or Yondu. "It would be nice if you didn't kill him because he's my soul mate." 

It's Rocket. Rocket laughs louder.

He all but falls over, he's laughing so hard, "Oh my God, Quill, that's fucking - oh my God. Him? You poor fuck!"

"I am Groot!" 

"I'm sorry, Groot," Rocket chokes, "It's just Quill and Ronan. Of all the maniacs in the galaxy Peter gets that one!" 

Drax frowns, "I do not understand why you did not simply tell us, my friend. It would have made many things far clearer." 

Peter stares, "Wait, that's it? This guy killed your family Drax!"

"That is true but it is also true that you did not choose him deliberately."

Rocket pats Drax awkwardly on the leg, voice still trembling with laughter, "That's a very mature outlook on things, big guy." 

Peter's opening his mouth to say something that he hasn't quite formulated but it'd probably be something along the lines of holy shit you guys are the best but hopefully more eloquent and Gamora's looking about as smug as someone in handcuffs with a gun pressed to their head can but then Yondu chuckles, "Touching as this whole thing is there's still the matter of how royally fucked you are, boy." 

Oh, right, the certain doom thing. The Ravagers aren't here in full force, there's maybe about forty of them, if he can get passed Yondu and get the cuffs off the others they can take 'em easily. The problem is the guns. The guns are frigging everywhere and Yondu's kindly relieved both him and Ronan of their weapons. The other problem are the cuffs. Peter might be a really awesome outlaw but he's never been good with locks. That's more Rocket's thing.

But hey, they've gotten out of way trickier situations.

Yondu takes another step towards Peter and Ronan makes a low warning noise. Yondu grins, "Aww, its almost cute. Ain't it, boys? Be a shame to break such a cute couple up." 

Peter's proud to say he only goes a little red. 

"You know what, boss," Kraglin says with a smirk, "I reckon we could probably let 'em stay together a lil longer. I'm sure we got a big enough cage someplace."

"Aww, come on, Kraglin, I thought you liked me," Peter whines.

"I do like you, kid, but you screwed us over one too many times. You gotta be punished."

"So, what'll be, Quill?" Yondu asks, spreading his hands. "We take your little boyfriend here off your hands and y'all get to spend a few days on this lovely hunk of rock or we shoot your friends and take your boyfriend anyway. Hell, we might even let you come along for the ride and I think I'm bein' mighty generous here. Ain't that bad of a place, right?"

This is it. This is the moment where he'll come up with a genius plan to get them out of this. He'll open his mouth and out'll come a witty line and then there'll be more fighting and they'll fly out of here and everything will be great.

Any second now.

Any second.

Any -

"You know, Yondu," Rocket says (thank fuck.) "You're right, I don't think this planets half bad. You know where else is nice this time of year? You remember that little planet, Groot? The one with all those really great diamonds? Bes I think it was called."

Groot nods, "I am Groot."

"Real nice little planet that was," Rocket says with a smirk? Okay, Peter's completely lost here. 

Groot apparently isn't though because he leans in close to Peter's ear, "I am Groot," he whispers. Cover your nose and mouth.

Judging by the blank looks on both Gamora and Drax's faces they're just as lost as he is which is kind of comforting. Yondu catches on and spins around to face Rocket, "The hell you up to, flea bag?"

"Nothin'! You're just paranoid!" Rocket says through his paws.

Drax is opening his mouth to say something just as Groot hops off Peter's shoulder. He stretches his arms out and the branches start to shift, Peter's still not sure what's actually happening but he's not taking any chances so he claps his hand over his nose and mouth and after a few seconds he decides to jump in head first and clamp his other hand firmly over Ronan's. Ronan splutters and Peter's pretty sure he comes perilously close to Ronan snapping his neck when strange, white spores start to pour from Groot's outstretched arms.

"The hell is this!" Yondu yells, turning, gun raised to face Groot. He's about to shoot and Peter's trying to figure out a way to kick Groot out of the way without inhaling the - whatever it is when he freezes and then very slowly he starts to sink down to his knees, "Don't... Don't you think you're getting away with this, boy," Yondu mumbles before falling face first into the dirt.

The Ravagers around them start dropping like flies and luckily at some point Drax and Gamora have covered their mouths.

"Are they dead?" Gamora asks, when the spores have started to dissipate.

"Naw, just sleeping," Rocket says, uncovering his mouth. "Well don't just stand there, moron, get these cuffs offa us and let's get the hell outta here!"

Peter stares for a few minutes more before cross to Kraglin's sleeping form and rummaging around to find the keys. "So, uh, how come you've never used that before Groot?" 

Groot shrugs, "I am Groot."

"He can only use it once every so often. It's sorta our last chance thing," Rocket explains as Peter undoes his cuffs.

"And you never thought to mention this?" Gamora asks.

"Hey, I'm sure you guys have stuff you ain't told me! Like this joker," he gestures to Peter. "And his little bond mate."

"Well, can you really blame me?" Peter mutters, as he undoes Drax's cuffs. 

"I still do not understand your reluctance to tell us," Drax says, thoughtfully. "Did you not think we would be supportive?"

Rocket snorts, "Yeah, Quill. We're all family here, right?"

Gamora shoots him an 'I-told-you-so' look as he uncuffs her and he sighs, "Okay, so we've established that I'm a moron. You done now?"

"Oh, we're just getting started, Quill," Rocket says, smirking gleefully. 

"Alright," Gamora interrupts, "Back in the real world, how long will they be out?" 

"I am Groot!" Groot chirps.

Rocket shrugs, "'Bout an hour? We should have enough time to patch up the Milano and be on our merry way. Well, I should have enough time to fix her up, you can deal with Quill's new boyfriend." He looks over at Ronan and starts sniggering again and Peter starts to weigh up the pros and cons of throttling him.

The cons win. Just.

"Come on, Peter," Gamora says, turning towards the ship.

Considering she was, for all intents and purposes, shot down, she's not looking too bad. Thank fuck. "Come on, Ronan." For a moment he thinks Ronan'll argue but he doesn't, he slouches over to Peter looking slightly defeated and follows him into the ship.

There's a moment where Gamora looks back at him and Peter knows exactly what she wants him to do. This is gonna suck. Drax and Gamora disappear into the cockpit and Peter turns to Ronan, "Uh, you're not gonna like, leave or wreck anything if I leave you here, are you?" 

Ronan rolls his eyes, "I am not some unhouse-trained animal, Terran." 

"I am Groot," Groot tells him, coming up the ramp behind them.

Peter grins, "Thanks buddy. Keep an eye on him, okay?"

Ronan glances down at Groot with something like curiosity which is probably better than outright hatred. Baby steps, right?

-

Luckily, Peter's not forced into any awkward conversations until they're safely away from the planet. Well, okay, he's not forced into that awkward conversation but they do tackle the why the hell would you jettison the cargo hold are you fucking crazy issue and the slightly quitter I'm glad you morons are still alive thing. 

It's not until they're back on course for Xandar that Rocket, from his position on the dashboard says, "So, soul mates."

"I'm driving," Peter mutters, "Can we do this later?"

"Nope," Gamora answers.

"I agree, this is an issue we need to discuss now," Drax nods.

"No way in hell, Quill," Rocket grins. 

Peter sighs. He has no idea what they want him to say. He has no idea what he wants to say. All he knows is that he's pretty sure that if Ronan left right now he'd fall apart. And that's really, really not what he ever wanted for himself.

"You know," Gamora says softly. "The Xandarins prize the soul bond above all else, they may show lenience." 

At this point Peter switches the Milano onto autopilot and runs a hand through his hair, "He doesn't deserve lenience though."

"But if they are to punish him, you will suffer too," Drax says, "And you do not deserve that. For instance, I may want nothing more than to break his neck but since he is bonded to you I will resist."

"Exactly! See, he's taken so much from you, Drax. I can't ask you to accept this!"

Drax actually looks slightly surprised, "But you do not need to ask, my friend."

Peter stares at him for a few minutes before looking to Rocket and Gamora, "Is he crazy or has he been practising his lying?"

Gamora smiles, "No, Quill, he's telling the truth."

This is so not right, Peter knows that on so many levels. He's heard about people having to make changes for the people they love but this? "Rocket?" he tries.

Rocket snorts, "Whaddya want me to say, Quill? If it keeps you from turning into an unresponsive pile of goo then I'm all in. Can't promise I'll be nice to him, though. And please tell me he's not still bat shit."

Peter smiles a little at that, "No, he - uh - he seems a little more stable."

"There ya go, happy families," Rocket says.

But this still isn't - They're not supposed to - 

Peter stands up, "I, uh, need to go and uh - " He stumbles a little on his way out of the cockpit and wanders into the kitchen in a bit of daze. Ronan's in there, sitting opposite Groot, they're sitting in silence but they're looking at each other with the kind of intensity that makes Peter think that they're communicating somehow. 

"Groot," he begins but his voice comes out slightly strangled so he clears his throat and tries again, "Groot, can I...?"

"I am Groot," he says, hopping down off the table and wandering off in the direction of the cockpit.

Ronan looks up at him, questioningly. 

"You know what, not here," Peter says. "Come on."

He leads Ronan into the 'bunk room, it's the only door in the ship that locks. Ronan raises an eyebrow when he enters the room and Peter flushes, "Oh my God, no, I didn't mean -" he stops short, collects his thoughts.

"You're still going to Xandar," he says, looking up at him. "You'll still be tried or whatever they're going to do but if they... if they let you off or..."

There's a familiar clicking noises, followed by a brief whir and Peter knows what's coming. 

"They said you could stay," Peter says, as the music starts.

Ronan has an unreadable expression on his face, "I did not ask to -"

"I know," Peter interrupts him. "I just thought it would be easier if..."

“I'm not in love, so don't forget it”, Eric Stewart croons. Peter is going to strangle whoever did this. “It's just a silly phase I'm going through.”

Ronan nods, he's fidgeting a little, rubbing his wrist, "Thank you." he says rather awkwardly.

This is probably karma kicking his butt for skipping the 'awkward with girls' phase he probably should have had at some point as a kid and it's cool, he's cool with this just staying painfully awkward until -  
\- screw it.

He steps forward and tugs Ronan down into a kiss and fuck he's never felt anything this good. 

He's expecting Ronan to push him away or freeze up but he doesn't, he tugs Peter closer with a possessive growl and suddenly Peter's ridiculously glad he locked the door.

**Author's Note:**

> yep, i ended there because i had no idea where i wanted the fic to go? not because i'm evil, i promise. 
> 
> too my knowledge groot can't actually do that but im the queen of shitty plots and writing myself into a corner and i needed to get out of it somehow!
> 
> hugs, kisses and cyber cookies to everyone who read this all the way through ^_^
> 
> (ps i totally did end there because im evil mwhahahaha)


End file.
